+Plot.+ Well, sister, by this hand, I was afraid You had marr'd all; but I am well content You have outreach'd me. If she do act it well now, By Jove, I'll have her. +Aur.+ She hath studied all Her cues already. +Plot.+ Gentlemen, how do You like the project? +Bright.+ Theirs was dull and cold, Compar'd to ours. +New.+ Some poet will steal from us, And bring't into a comedy. +Quart.+ The jest Will more inspire than sack. +Plot.+ I have got Cypher Over to our side too: he has been up and down To invite guests to th' wedding. _Enter +Salewit+ like a Curate._ How now, Salewit, are they gone home? +Sale.+ Yes, faith, for better for worse. I've read a fiction out of Rab'lais to 'em In a religious tone, which he believes For good French liturgy. When I had done, There came a christening. +Plot.+ And didst thou baptize Out of thy Rab'lais too? +Sale.+ No, faith; I left 'em In expectation of their pastor. +Bright.+ Newcut, Who does he look like in that dress? +New.+ Hum! why Like a Geneva weaver in black, who left[256] The loom, and enter'd into th' ministry For conscience' sake. +Plot.+ Well, gentlemen, you all Do know your parts: you, Captain and Bannswright, Go, get your properties. For you two, these Two mules shall carry you in greater state And more ease than the fistula. You, sister, We'll leave unto your knight, to come anon. Roseclap and I will thither straight. You, Cypher, Know what you have to do. +Sale.+ And as for me, I'm an invited guest, and am to bless The venison in French, or in a grace Of broken English. +Quart.+ Before we do divide Our army, let us dip our rosemaries[257] In one rich bowl of sack to this brave girl, And to the gentleman that was my fish. +All.+ Agreed, agreed. +Plot.+ Captain, you shall dip first. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _+Warehouse+, +Dorcas+._ +Ware.+ My dearest Dorcas, welcome. Here you see The house you must be mistress of, which with This kiss I do confirm unto you. +Dor.+ Forbear, sir. +Ware.+ How! wife, refuse to kiss me? +Dor.+ Yes, unless A sweeter air came from you; y' have turned my stomach. I wonder you can be so rude to ask me, Knowing your lungs are perish'd. +Ware.+ This is rare, That I should live to this great age, and never Till now know I was rotten! +Dor.+ I shall never Endure your conversation: I hope you have Contriv'd two beds, two chambers, and two tables. It is an article, that I should live Retir'd--that is, apart. +Ware.+ But pray you, wife, are you in earnest? +Dor.+ D'you think I'll jest with age? +Ware.+ Will you not lie with me, then?